


every day is a step closer to forever

by falloutmars



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: (except this is Bughead so we ignore those 2 episodes), A lot of kissing, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Smut, established relationship too, jugheads birthday, like a lot, nothing too graphic, oh there's a Party, slight angst, they say I love you a lot, they're in college
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:13:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25650397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falloutmars/pseuds/falloutmars
Summary: It's his birthday weekend and she promised she'd visit him in Syracuse. She doesn’t let him down, she never would, so late on Friday evening, a knock on his (thankfully) single dorm room door signals the arrival of her.He practically runs to the door, beanie long forgotten, wearing that button-up shirt with suspenders he knows she just loves."Hey," he grins as he swings open the door.–(Or, one weekend, a party, and a lot of making up for lost time.)
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 40
Kudos: 99
Collections: 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is the first part of a fic i wrote purely because i wanted bughead making out at a college party ...yeah. it turned out to be over 13k but no regrets. onwards and upwards, enjoy!

Parties weren't his scene in high school. But in college, he guesses why not?

Drunk people still give him a pang of guilt and hurt, though, but that's something he is learning to deal with. His father is better now, he's doing better, so Jughead doesn't need to worry like that.

Easier said than done, except, of course, when he has his gorgeous blonde girlfriend by his side.

It's his birthday weekend and she promised she'd visit him in Syracuse. She doesn’t let him down, she never would, so late on Friday evening, a knock on his (thankfully) single dorm room door signals the arrival of her.

He practically runs to the door, beanie long forgotten, wearing that button-up shirt with suspenders he knows she just loves. 

"Hey," he grins as he swings open the door.

No words are said in response. Instead, she throws herself at him, her overnight bag abandoned on the floor. Neither of them care that they're kissing with an open door, in the corridor where any of Jughead's classmates and acquaintances could see. Honestly, he couldn't give less of a shit when her tongue skims the edge of his lips.

Betty, however, seems more aware of their surroundings, leaning back with a smile, mumbling, “Hey.”

He doesn't want to waste any more time, though, picking up her bag and throwing it just behind the door. 

"Come in," he says with a smirk. 

And she does. As soon as he closes the door behind her, she's pushing him against it, groaning when she feels him. (Later, he'll tell her how much he's missed her, how long he's been waiting to do this again, but as she can tell, he doesn't have much blood left in his brain to form such words.)

Having her against him again is like heaven itself. She fits so perfectly and he can't get enough of her lips against his. It feels like they've been apart for years when in reality, it's only been a few weeks. Regardless, it's been too long. 

Before he knows it, she's unbuttoning his shirt. Slowly, far too slowly, but some distant part of his brain is glad that she seems to be enjoying it. 

"Jughead," she groans, kissing along the slope of his neck.

He can barely comprehend what is happening, huffing out a _fuck_.

Betty doesn't stop her assault of his neck, nipping the spot she knows he loves. He hopes there's a mark there, one he can show off at the party tomorrow, one that shows everyone he belongs to Betty Cooper because _fuck_ does he belong to her.

But as much as he enjoys whatever she’s doing right now, there’s some primal part of him that really wants to please her. 

“Betty, Betty, wait,” he manages to force out just as she soothes his bruised neck with a series of open-mouthed kisses. 

She pulls back, looking at him with swollen lips and dilated eyes. 

“Can we,” he pants, running his fingertips down her side, “take this to the bed?”

"Fuck yes," she growls, stepping back away from him. 

He mourns the loss of her body pressed to his for a second, but as if she can read his mind, she's dragging him by the hand and pulling him to the edge of his bed. Somewhere in the back of his brain notices that she still has all of her clothes on, while he's standing in an unbuttoned shirt, feeling slightly naked without his beanie on already. 

So he does something to fix that. 

Something he doesn't have to do is remove her shoes. Luckily, she kicks them off while he's distracted by the sight of her, by having her in front of him again. Then, he pulls her forward, fingertips gripping her hips, their lips meeting in the middle in a rough kiss. 

Mirroring her actions from earlier, he moves his mouth from hers to start kissing along her jaw. He nibbles slightly, just the way she likes it, before moving to her neck. He kisses it, moving onto her collarbone, and down her body. Biting hard on the spot she loves, he soothes it with a swipe of his tongue, knowing how much she loves it when he marks her. 

A background part of his brain - the possessive part, he decides – enjoys knowing that they're going to have matching marks on their necks for all his classmates to see. 

Once he finishes marking her, he moves back to her lips while his hands find the hem of her sweatshirt. He distracts her with his tongue, fingertips dipping underneath the fabric. He quickly gets impatient, though, pulling it up and over the head, reluctantly leaving her lips for just a second. 

Kissing her again, his hands begin gently roam around on the skin of her torso. He tries not to tickle her, but he thinks she's too distracted to notice if he does.

At the same time, Betty's hands have shoved his shirt off his shoulders, throwing it in a random direction, leaving only his suspenders and pants on.

At one point, she plucks a suspender onto his bare skin. It stings slightly, but he can't help but like it. (Of course, Betty knows this.)

His own hands find their way to the clasp of her bra, all while they're kissing, mouths and tongues intertwined.

"Take it off," she mutters into his mouth.

Naturally, he indulges her.

With a practiced move that took him a long time to learn, he unclasps her bra, letting her pull the straps down and discard it to the side. Instantly, his hands move up to cup her in the way she loves, forcing a slight groan out of her. 

"Jug," she whines, wiggling against him, "please."

Once again, he cannot deny her. Nor does he want to. So he pushes her gently, making her fall onto his bed with a soft thud. She scoots up towards the wall, leaning on her elbows, watching as he takes off his suspenders. Her eyes rake up and down his body.

“You like what you see?” he says with a smirk.

Licking her lips, she nods. “Oh yes.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, removing his pants, and climbing on top of her. He straddles her, lips finding hers almost immediately. 

Their kisses continue, quickly getting heated again. She’s panting into his mouth, as her still clothed hips roll up to meet his, making them both moan at the sensation. It's been far too long and Jughead feels like he could finish from just this, so he focuses his attention on her.

His mouth moves down her body, kissing and biting along the way. He knows exactly where to kiss her to get the noises and reactions he wants, so that's what he does. 

Moving past her stomach, he rests his head on her thigh, looking up at her, hand resting on the zipper of her pants.

She nods enthusiastically, eyes clouded over with lust.

Giving her what she wants, he unzips her pants, pulling them down her legs agonizingly slow. She wiggles, making it more difficult for him, so he chuckles, eyes never leaving hers. 

She gets impatient eventually, kicking him in the side lightly, so he hurries up, throwing her pants on the floor, and turns his attention to kissing her thighs.

“Jug,” she whines again.

Chuckling, he stops in his tracks. “Someone’s vocal today, huh?” he teases.

“I wouldn’t have to be if–” her hips move, searching for some kind of contact “–you got on with it.”

She sounds _desperate_ , and Jughead’s not sure he’s ever felt thismuch pure need before. So he gives in. _Of course_ he gives in. 

Starting slow, he aims to tease her even further. He doesn't remove her underwear yet, kissing over the top of it until she's practically begging for me. Eventually, he does take it off, using both his tongue and his fingers to bring her right to the edge. 

She's squirming underneath him, making those noises that make him never want to stop. 

He loves doing this. He knows some people – not that he's often openly spoken about it – don't like it. But with Betty, he's not sure how he couldn't. Her noises, the grip she has on his hair, hell, even the taste. He just loves making her feel good. 

Once she’s toppled over the edge, mouth wide open in pleasure and fingers twisting into his hair, he slows his movements, careful not to push her too far. He kisses up her body this time until he reaches her lips, the grip she has on his hair pulling him towards her roughly.

“Not that that wasn’t amazing,” she begins, breathless, “but _please_ , Jug.” Her hand snakes between them, cupping him through his boxers, before she moves it up to the waistband.

He nods, and she pulls them down with little effort. He has to roll off of her to kick them off all the way, but luckily for him, she’s quick to use that as an opportunity to climb on top. 

Everything’s a bit of a blur after that. Both high off the moment and being together again, both aware they won’t last long once she _finally_ slips down onto him. 

“You feel so good,” she murmurs, speeding up in the way she knows both of them like.

All he can do is groan in response. 

They finish together shortly afterward. His hand is tangled in her hair and she pulls him in for a kiss as they do so, even though both of them are breathless. 

Wincing as she climbs off of him, he watches as she flops onto the bed, using the last of her energy to crawl over and lay her head on his chest.

“I love you,” he whispers, using a hand to brush a strand of hair out of her face. 

“I love you, too.”

–

Jughead wakes up the next morning in his favorite way: with Betty curled up next to him. 

He missed this a lot, he missed waking up to blonde hair splayed out on the pillow next to him, some tickling his arm. He missed waking up to her soft snores, a little reminder that the woman he loves is _there_ with him. It’s something he hopes to wake up to every day. 

(He did for a while, back in Riverdale. A part of him hates that he didn’t appreciate it enough while he had it.) 

It’s early. Too early for him to want to get up, but too late for him to want to go back to sleep. And he doesn’t want to wake Betty up, not yet. So he watches her. He takes note of everything about the situation, tries to commit the gentle way her chest rises and falls to memory, tries to think of a way to make this their _forever_ sooner than years away. 

Eventually, Betty begins to stir. He knows all the tell-tale signs now. She starts to move more, instinctively moving towards him like he’s the center of her universe. Her breathing becomes less even until finally, her eyes will flutter open. 

He greets her with a small smile, his finger rubbing small circles into her shoulder. "Morning," he whispers softly.

She smiles back, voice thick with sleep when she whispers, "Hi." 

They just watch each other for a minute or so, taking in the moment – one they haven't had for a while. Their smiles continue, her eyes struggling to stay open but she forces them open to watch him.

The thought makes his heart flutter. God, he loves this girl so much. Sometimes it overwhelms him, just how much he loves her. 

He's loved her for what feels like forever. He’s loved her for so long, before he even understood what being in love truly meant. He spent years imagining what it would be like to be loved by Betty Cooper, always thinking it would never happen. Someone as incredible as Betty wouldn't love someone like him. The universe didn't work like that, he'd convinced himself of it.

Except he was wrong.

He's never been so happy to be wrong.

Betty Cooper does, in fact, love him. She loves him so much, and he's finally in a position where he believes it, where there is no doubt left in his mind that she's the one for him.

One day, this will be forever.

Every day is a step closer to forever.

"You're so beautiful," he tells her, unable to keep his feelings at bay anymore. His hand moves up to gently cup her face, watching as she blushes slightly. 

They've passed the point of any real embarrassment now. Early on in their relationship, hidden faces and sheepish smiles were common whenever a compliment was given. Even more so when the topic of sex came up. Two shy teenagers, unable to face their true thoughts and feelings, slowly growing comfortable with one another.

Now, the soft pink color that covers her cheeks is purely incidental. Now, she’s more than happy to tell him what she wants, and he’s more than happy to comply. 

“I missed you,” she murmurs, leaning into his touch.

“I missed you, too.” He shuffles towards her, leaving no room between their bare bodies. He presses a soft kiss on the side of her head. “I’m just happy you’re here.”

"I'm sorry I can't be here for your actual birthday," she frowns. She seems genuinely sad, even though it isn't something either of them can control. Their colleges are hours apart, and his birthday just happens to fall on a Tuesday. So spending the weekend before it together is as good as they can make it at the moment.

He doesn't want her to dwell on it though, so he shrugs it off, kissing her again. (He knows he's probably _that_ boyfriend, can't keep his hands to himself, but he really doesn't care.)

"Are you still up for that party later?" he asks instead, a poor attempt to divert her attention. He knows she won’t say no. They’ve discussed it many times before, her asking him what outfit to wear, confirming the time at least three times. He knows she isn’t going to have changed her mind. 

And of course, he’s right.

She nods, looking up at him with glazed-over eyes. "Parties without you aren't the same."

Feeling an unwanted pang of sadness, he decides both of them could probably do with a distraction right about now, so he leans forward, pressing his lips against hers. He feels her smile into it, neither of them caring about potential morning breath. (Again, they’re passed that.)

There's nothing suggestive about the way they kiss. They're both still sleepy, so for now, they're content just to kiss softly, feel each other’s lips against their own and bask in the moment. They don't need anything else, just each other.

So they enjoy that luxury. Soft kisses, gentle touches, and murmurs of affection are all enough for now. It's all either of them have the energy to do.

The feeling of Betty against him will never get old, Jughead thinks. In some strange, unlike him way, he thinks they were made for each other. He doesn't usually believe in soulmates or the like, but with Betty, anything is possible. 

After what could've been 5 minutes or 5 hours – he couldn't have told you either way – they break for air. He rests his forehead against hers, fingertips going back to drawing shapes against her skin. Almost subconsciously, he begins drawing small crowns paired with hearts. He doesn't notice until she mentions it.

"Are you drawing crowns?" She gestures to his hand, smiling as she does so.

His hand stops instinctively, and he thinks for a moment. "Huh. I guess I was."

She shrugs. "I like it."

He wants to feel embarrassed, but when he notices the state of her neck from the previous night, he can't help but feel some kind of twisted pride. 

"You like being mine, huh?"

She giggles. "Oh yeah. But only if you're mine, too."

"Always," he replies, sealing it with a kiss. 

This time, there's at least some intent in the way he kisses her. And, with the way she kisses him back, he thinks she's following him. But to make sure, he continues kissing her, letting his tongue trace the seam of her lips.

She responds just as he thought. He knows her well enough to be able to understand if and when she wants to take things further and when to leave things be. And she can read him, too. She's quite possibly the only person who fully understands him. 

But something like that comes with time.

Three years and counting. Three years of learning each other; three years of loving each other. 

Jughead pulls away for just a second, planning on readjusting their position to accelerate the situation before the corridor outside his room starts to get busy – it is Saturday, he remembers, so most students will be hidden away for longer than usual – but Betty takes the opportunity to do it herself. She effortlessly moves to straddle him, cupping his face as her lips meet his. 

He quickly responds to her actions, momentarily wondering if his teenage-like reaction should be shameful or not. But as she kisses down the marks she made on his neck last night, the slight pressure of pain that sends a flash of pleasure makes him forget everything. 

“Betty–” he breaths, eyes rolling back into his head at the feeling of her mouth on him.

She reluctantly moves back, looking at him, her lips swollen. “You okay?”

He almost laughs. “Yes. More than okay.”

Tilting her head in confusion, she grinds down ever so slightly on him, smirking as she does so.

“Oh my _god_ ,” he groans, gripping her hips to encourage her to continue. Some distant part of him hopes he leaves faint bruises. The same part of him _knows_ she wants that too.

His reaction strikes a match of pride within her, evident by the smug grin spread across her face. 

He tells her as much, all while she speeds up the movement of her hips. “ _Ugh_. You’re so _fucking_ smug,” he groans.

Her grin only gets bigger. “There’s more where that came from.”

Hands snaking up her, he threads it through her hair, tugging her head down so he can kiss her. It’s a mess of teeth and tongues, and slightly rough, just how he knows she likes. 

They part for air, both panting, a few minutes later. 

“Betts, can I–?” he manages to get out, hoping she understands what he’s trying to say. 

She shakes her head, moving a hand down in between them. “Let me?”

Letting out a breathy sigh at her touch, he nods. “But only if I can have my way after.”

Already leaning down to kiss him again, she giggles against his skin before she has _her_ way with him.

–

Unfortunately, one of the bad parts of living in dorms (one of _many)_ is communal showers. 

Back in Riverdale, Betty and Jughead made very good use of their own private bathroom. From simple domestic behavior, like brushing their teeth side by side (yes, they’re _that_ couple), to shared showers, they became accustomed to their privacy. And rather enjoyed it. After intimate moments, they often found themselves basking in that element of aftercare together.

But here in the Syracuse university dorms, that isn’t something they can share.

Betty goes first. He hands her his robe, watching as she covers up the dark marks he’d made with the pure white. She picks up her washbag, leaning over to kiss him quickly.

“I’ll be right back,” she tells him as she walks out the door.

He mourns the loss of her with him for a second, like some stupid lovesick teenager. She’ll be back in a minute, he tells himself, but the lingering reminder that she _will_ be leaving tomorrow evening hits him like a tonne of bricks. 

Flopping back down on his bed, he lets himself roll over onto her side. It smells like her, of course it does. And it smells like them. He'll definitely have to find the courage to change these sheets soon, but for now, and for a little while, he wants to immerse himself in her.

He knows how much it'll hurt when he has to say goodbye to her tomorrow, not knowing when he'll next see her. It'll probably be Thanksgiving. That's... 8 weeks away. God. He hates being away from her, he hates that they were so fucking close to both going to Yale, both living in Connecticut. 

_We'll solve every mystery_ , he'd told her, _and we'll eat a lot of pizza._

What a dream that would've been. 

Stonewall Prep had to fucking ruin it.

He sighs, running his hands through his greasy hair. He doesn't want to dwell on this now, not while she _is_ here. They don't have long, so he wants to enjoy the time they do have together. 

(He's not sure he wants to think about not being able to see her regularly for the next 4 years.

It's easier to push those thoughts away.)

Picking up his phone, he sends a quick text to JB, just checking up on her. Another message from Archie is waiting for him, but he ignores that for now. He's sure his friend will understand.

Not long after, there's a small knock on his door just before it opens, and Betty enters. She's wearing his robe, her hair is wet, and she looks happy. Some might say she's glowing. He knows Veronica would.

"Hey," he says as he sits up, forcing a smile.

It never works with her. She always knows. 

The bed next to him dips slightly, and she shuffles next to him. "What's wrong, Juggie?"

Juggie. It gets him every time. The way it rolls off her tongue, the way it only sounds right when she says it. He feels like he wants to cry. 

"Nothing," he says instead, part of him wanting her to drop it, part of him wanting to cry into her arms. "I'll go get the shower now."

As he tries to get up, she grabs his hand. "Jughead. I can tell something's wrong."

He sighs in defeat. "I guess you're right."

"Usually am," she replies with a cheeky smile.

Chuckling, he admires her ability to make him laugh so easily. It's something he's needed a lot of over the years, and something he's incredibly grateful for. 

His face falls again when he starts talking. "I... hate this." He makes sure to catch her eye. "I just miss you so much."

She nods but doesn't say anything.

"We should've been together, Betts. We should've been in Connecticut together." His eyes start watering, and he curses himself for ruining their time together. He knows she won't see it like that, though.

Her thumb rubs gentle circles into the back of his hand. "I know," she whispers. "I know. But we'll get through it, okay? We'll get through it and then we'll have the rest of our lives together."

All he can do is nod and let the tears fall. 

In response, she wraps her arms around him. One hand still holding his, the other caresses his back. A comforting action he's eternally grateful for. 

Neither of them says anything. They just sit wrapped up in each other, a multitude of understanding between them.

Once the tears subside, Jughead presses a kiss to her shoulder, and mumbles, "Thank you."

She pulls back, hand still clutching his. She smiles at him, one that makes him melt. "We'll get through this," she reminds him. "If we can survive a town-wide civil war, a serial killer who turned out to be my father, a murdering gargoyle–" she's counting these out on her spare hand, and God, did this all happen to them? "–an organ-stealing cult who _ascended_ with half my family, sharing a half-brother who works for the FBI, a prep school trying to frame me for your murder–" she takes a deep breath, trying to hold back her giggles "–and creepy voyeuristic videotapes..." 

He’s almost breathless from laughing so much, but he manages to pause for a second, finishing the sentence. “Then we can get through anything.”

“Exactly.” 

They continue laughing together, with Jughead feeling a lot better already. He’s glad, too, that they can laugh about all the shit they went through up to this point. He’s glad that they can laugh _together_. 

And oh do they. A lot. 

(Laughing is better than crying, he decides.)

Once their laugher subsides, Jughead moves his hand up to cup Betty's face. His eyes are soft, as is his touch, and he leans in to kiss her. 

"I love you," he mumbles against her lips. "I love you so much."

He can feel her smile as he can't help but kiss her again.

"And I love you," she whispers. "But I've just _showered_ , Jug, we can't start anything again."

He groans in faux hurt, but he's laughing. He presses one more kiss against her lips before getting up. "Fine, fine, I'll go."

"Don't you need something?" she asks, eyebrows raised, slowly standing up.

He hums questioningly as he picks up his own washbag, eyes moving back to her when she doesn’t respond. 

In front of him, she pulls on the bow keeping the robe together, allowing it to fall open. Maintain intense eye contact, she shrugs it off, leaving her standing with absolutely nothing on. She bends down to pick up the robe and throws it at him with a smirk. 

It hits him with a soft thud. 

“You, Betty Cooper, are a little _shit_.” He can’t help but rake his eyes up and down her breath-taking body. “I thought we _weren’t_ starting something right now.”

“We’re not,” she grins. “Enjoy your shower!”

With an over-dramatic sigh, he wanders over to the door. “Yeah. A _cold_ shower.”

–

Without the luxury of a shared shower, and with a party to attend later that evening, Betty and Jughead spend their day trying to keep their hands off one another. It’s difficult now, with their time together so sacred, but they try, they really try.

So in an attempt to make that slightly easier, they go out for lunch. Jughead takes her to a diner, ten minutes north of campus. It’s not Pop’s – nothing is – but it’s pretty much as good as you get in Syracuse. And Jughead would know.

Seated opposite each other in a blue booth, there’s an array of food in front of them. Burgers, hot dogs, fries, milkshakes, sodas. Anything they could possibly want. 

It’s good. It’s good food. And it’s _nice_ to have Betty here. More often than not, Jughead comes here alone to write or work on an essay, but having her here with him makes the whole experience more enjoyable.

They chat about everything and nothing. At Pop’s, they’d usually have some mystery to theorize about or their two best friends with them, and as much as he misses that, he really does prefer having Betty all to himself. No pretense, no distractions, just them. 

"This is nice, isn't it?" he says, distracted by her rather than his food. (She has that effect on him, and only her.)

She looks up, smiling. "Yeah, yeah it is."

Suddenly craving her touch, he reaches his hand out to rest on hers atop the table. He's smiling like an idiot, he knows, but he also doesn't care. 

"What's gotten into you today, huh?" She's smirking now, used to his, what some might call, strange behavior. 

He shrugs. "Nothing. I just missed this. And you."

Frowning slightly, she turns her hand around so it's facing upwards. She clutching his like they're shaking hands, but really, she's holding it in the comforting way she knew he wanted.

"Thank you."

In response, she gets up, still holding his hand of course, and hops around to his side of the booth. Their arms stretch across as she moves, but when she sits next to him, she swaps her hands around so she can thread their fingers together properly.

"I missed you, too," she says with a squeeze of his hand, "for the record." 

He grins then, leaning over to press a chaste kiss against her lips, before he turns back to his food. 

He feels better for the rest of lunch, amazed at how easy it is for her to lighten his mood. He wants to bottle her, have her whenever he needs it. Really, that's nothing to do with feeling bad, that's nothing to do with her making him feel better. It's just selfish. He wants her _always_.

Once they finish lunch, they wander around the city. He shows her some of his favorite spots. The local bookshop, a quaint cafe, a dog park. He treats her to ice cream from a van on the street corner, enjoying the surprisingly mild weather. 

Walking around Syracuse hand in hand with her makes Jughead feel, for lack of a better word, strange. 

He loves it. He loves _her_. There is nothing more he likes doing than being able to show the world he's hers. 

But. 

It's Syracuse. There's something in his head telling him that it's not right, that it should've been Connecticut. It should've been Connecticut like he promised her.

But it isn't. 

Maybe he feels like he failed her, like he failed them. He knows, he _knows_ deep down that it's not true. _Bullshit_ , he can hear her tell him. And she's right. He knows she’s right.

He doesn't want to be sad again. So he reminds himself of the truth. And he focuses on Betty. And he focuses on the here and now.

Luckily, his amazing girlfriend doesn't make that too difficult. 

"Is this party tonight, like, smart?" 

He chuckles. "Betts, it's a college house party. I don't think so."

"Who even has a house in college?"

He gives her a pointed look, and she laughs.

"Yeah, okay. So will this party be more like a Veronica Lodge one or Cheryl Blossom one?"

Groaning, he remembers the last Blossom party they went to. The police turned up, and of course, that had to be his own father who scolded him for drinking. At least that can't happen here. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

"Whose party is it again? And are you sure they don't mind me tagging along?"

He knows her excessive questioning comes from a place of anxiety, and he wants to reassure her. Stopping in his tracks, and therefore her, his spare hand rests on her shoulder. "Betty," he says, trying to keep his voice soft and calm, "it's okay. No one will mind. I want you there, so you can be there."

She lets out a shaky laugh. "Okay. If you're sure."

"I am." He carries on walking, tugging her along with him. "And if I'm being honest, I have no idea whose party it is. Theo from my intro to lit class invited me."

Betty knows Theo. She met him briefly the first time she visited Syracuse. Jughead is pretty sure she likes him, so he thinks she'll be comfortable with seeing him again. And if he's being honest, Jughead's not sure if they'll even end up talking to anyone else. (He has bigger plans than socializing.)

"Oh!" Betty replies. "Yeah, I like him. It'll be good."

He glances over at her, sending a tight smile in her direction, squeezing her hand in support. 

They continue to chat idly as they make their way back to his dorm room. Even though there are still a few hours before they need to get ready for the party, they decide to head back already. Plus, Jughead wants some time with Betty in private, and she seems happy enough to comply, despite both of their earlier reservations. 

Luckily, no one he knows is wandering around campus when they walk through it. He didn't want to have to face anyone just yet, so he's glad when they make it through the safety of his dorm. 

Seemingly unable to keep his hands to himself once again, as soon as they're inside, he’s dragging her to the bed. 

(Back at home, they wouldn’t have made it that far. A couch, or even the floor, would do. Or once, against the kitchen counter. 

Here, the bed’s the closest and only option.

A distant part of him misses the trailer he grew up in. The home of many firsts is no more.)

"What's this all about?" she gasps as he pushes her down on the mattress so he can climb on top.

He stops immediately, worried he's taken it too far. "Do you want to stop?"

She shakes her head assertively. "God, no. Just wondering."

"I want you," he says by way of an explanation before leaning down to _finally_ meet her lips. 

She kisses back with equal force, her hands roaming up and down his body until finally, she threads one through his hair with just enough pressure. The other thumbs the edge of the sherpa jacket he forgot he had on.

"Jughead," she laughs, panting, "why is your jacket still on?"

He pulls back, her hand reluctantly falling from his hair. He's already feeling the effects of their makeout session, so it takes some time for his brain to process what she's saying. 

Eventually, he lets out a frustrated giggle. "Fuck." As he eyes her up and down, he realizes hers is still on, too. His hand finds the end of it, and he raises an eyebrow at her. "What's this, then?"

"Fuck indeed."

Removing himself from her lap, he quickly shrugs his jacket off, throwing it to the side. She does the same, going a step further, though, pulling off her top, too. 

His mouth goes dry at the sight of her, topless once again. He feels like such a fucking teenager but he can’t find it in himself to care. His girlfriend is incredibly sexy, and what?

“Jughead.”

Eyes snapping upwards to meet hers, he’s slightly taken aback by her tone. Slightly taken aback and _very_ into it.

“Take yours off,” she all but demands. 

He does. No one can deny that face _or_ tone. Her voice is softer when she asks, “Can I kiss you now?”

“Definitely.”

They meet somewhere in the middle, ending up with him pinning her to the bed, just as he wanted. He kisses her so thoroughly, trying to commit her taste to a life-long memory. Her hand finds its way back to his hair, tugging slightly on it, making him gasp. 

“Betty. Fuck,” is all his brain can come up with.

That earns him a chuckle before her lips are back on his. 

They kiss heatedly until Betty becomes impatient. Nudging Jughead off of her, she’s quick to roll on top of him, and even quick to move her hips against him. 

“You’ve wanted this all day, haven’t you?” she asks, a smirk on her face as she moves.

Nodding, he’s cursing the agonizing _four_ layers between them, hands grabbing her hips to, once again, wordlessly ask for more. 

She complies, leaning down to kiss him as she does so. 

Moving them from her hips, his hands roam up her soft skin, finding the band of her bra. He fumbles with the clasp, far too distracted with her movements to be able to use his well-practiced skill. 

Her mouth is moving along his jaw and down his neck and _my god_ he feels like he’s going to explode at the feeling, and even quicker if he doesn’t get her goddamn bra off. 

“Betty,” he half-groans, “I can’t do it.”

She pulls her mouth away from his neck, and he misses it immediately, but then she reaches behind her back with one hand – the other resting on his chest – and removes her bra in one swift motion. It’s thrown someone to the side – where exactly _really_ doesn’t bother him – and she’s back kissing him. It takes him just a second to realize that her bare chest is now pressed against his. 

He mutters another _fuck_ , barely able to control what he says. 

“Someone’s vocal today, huh?” she quips, mirroring his words from yesterday.

“ _Yes_.”

With another kiss, she sits up, her hands moving down to the zipper of his pants. She undoes it, and he can tell she’s being careful not to touch him yet. It’s driving him insane.

His whines her name as she slowly pulls his pants down, leaving his boxers still on. She’s got that sly grin on her face, one that he desperately wants to kiss off, but her hand is so close to where he wants it so he doesn’t want to distract her away from that. 

As he looks at her with pleading eyes, she giggles. “Patience, Jug.”

"Fuck patience," he growls, pulling her back up to his face and kissing her roughly. One hand holds her in place while the other fumbles with her zipper. He just about manages to undo the button one-handed, and the zip is soon to follow. Once he does that, he frees his other hand so he can use it to push down both layers.

She smiles into the kiss, her own hand going back in between them to fiddle with the edge of his boxers.

Unable to fully remove her pants, he sighs in frustration. Her hand is so fucking distracting but he does not want any layers between them anymore. 

"Please," he says, voice low. "I want you."

Her lips are on his again, kissing hungrily. Her tongue traces the seam of his lips, and he can tell she's trying to distract him. She's playing the long game today. She wants more out of him than a quick release.

He's not necessarily complaining, though. Sure, he's frustrated beyond belief, but he also _knows_ how good it'll be once they get to it.

Rolling off of him, she kicks her pants the rest of the way off, leaving her naked and him with just boxers on. She lays next to him on her side, fingertips trailing up and down his skin. Her touch leaves goosebumps in its place, making him shiver with want. 

_Fuck_ , he wants to scream, but he can’t. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_. 

As her hand finally, _finally_ , starts tugging his boxers down, he lets out a sigh of relief, one that quickly turns into a groan when she touches him.

“Jesus, Betty,” he pants, eyes rolling back into his head. 

She giggles. He knows how much she likes his reactions, especially when she wants to take her time. 

Far too slowly for his liking, she continues stroking him, while moving forward to capture his lips once again. He struggles to kiss back with any rhyme or reason, everything in his being focuses on her touch. _God_ , how will he survive hours away from her again?

“Is this okay?” she whispers, hand stopping.

She must’ve noticed his struggles, he thinks, and as much as he endlessly appreciates her concern, she’s _stopped_.

“Yes,” he replies. Then after a moment, “Well, no. I want _more_.”

“All in good time, Jug.”

Her hand movements resume and her lips are back on his again. Everything is _slow_ and it feels so good. He wants it forever. He wants this, and he wants more. He just wants _her_ , all of her.

He grabs a fistful of her hair, pulling her away from him ever so slightly. She rests her forehead against his, smiling.

“I love you,” he tells her. “I love you so much.”

“I love you _more_ ,” she retorts. 

He makes a sound of displeasure, even though it’s far from what he’s feeling right now. But she seems to take that as a win, grinning triumphantly. 

“As much as your hand feels really fucking good,” he breathes, “can I _please_ fuck you now?”

“Oh yeah.”

–

Sweaty, fully satisfied (for now) and tired, Jughead lays with Betty, his thin duvet covering just the bottom half of them. Her head is resting on his chest and they're both still slightly breathless. 

"You know," she starts, looking up at him as best as possible in this angle, "that seems to get better every time."

He chuckles. It's true. "Well, they do say practice makes perfect."

"And we do get a _lot_ of practice in." Her voice sounds suggestive, and if he didn't know better, he'd think she'd be up for another round. (Maybe later, he hopes.)

Pressing a kiss to her messy hair, he whispers, "I miss this being our normal."

"Me too," she sighs. "But one day it will be our forever."

_Yeah_ , he thinks, _and this will all be worth it._

Instead of replying, he wants to kiss her again. Divert those sad thoughts with her and her only. So he gently uses his hand to tilt her head up, closing the small gap between their lips. He kisses her softly and thoroughly, filing this memory away for a time later on when those thoughts come back and she isn't here to help with them. 

When they part, she reminds him that she loves him. "I love you more than anything, okay? Don't you ever forget that." 

Her voice is quiet, but it's loud enough for him to hear her clearly. It's loud enough for him to know she's telling him the truth, not that he spends as much time as he used to doubting her love for him. 

"I love you, too."

She smiles at him. A smile that's reserved only for him. A real one, full of love and admiration. He has one for her, too. It's something special between them, something that keeps him afloat when nothing else does.

Leaning over her, he fumbles for his phone, clicking it to see the time. As it happens, their impromptu session turned out to take up a lot longer than Jughead had anticipated, meaning the party is just two hours away. 

And he's hungry.

As if on cue, his stomach growls. 

“I suppose we better get up, mister,” she says with a giggle, moving off of him. “What’s for dinner?”

“Well–” he gets up “–on the menu today is–” he rummages through a small storage box in the corner of his room “–Walmart’s finest–” he grabs two packets, throwing them on the bed “–instant ramen.”

She grins. “Perfect.”

Grabbing his abandoned boxers, he reluctantly puts them back on, chucking her his ‘S’ shirt. “Chicken or beef?” he asks, picking up the ramen packets.

As she shrugs his t-shirt on, she pretends to think for a moment. A glint in her eye, she grins at him. “Is that even a question?”

He rolls his eyes. “Chicken?”

“Of course.”

Jughead gets straight to work. The dried noodles go in two bowls, covered with water, and shoved in the microwave for five minutes. In the meantime, he grabs a couple of forks, handing one and the chicken flavor packet to Betty.

“Did you just put two bowls in the microwave at the same time?” she says slowly.

He sits down, shuffling towards her. “Yep.”

“I…” She blinks in disbelief and giggles. “Okay, I guess.”

Once the noodles are ready, they sit side-by-side, knees touching, on his bed, slurping each noodle loudly. It's a habit they picked up to annoy Alice Cooper. She hated instant food, and she hated loud eating, so purely to spite her, they would slurp instant ramen. 

Eventually, Alice stopped caring so much, but their habit stuck. It's a good memory between them, so Jughead's glad that it stuck. Especially now he can share it with her again.

(Every time he eats these without her – which, being a college student, is very often – he gets unnecessarily sad thinking about her.

That represents his life without her, he thinks. Sad.)

Their makeshift dinner is gone in a matter of minutes. He abandons the dirty plates to the side, deciding to leave them for when Betty isn't here. And she doesn't offer to do them, either. A habit he's glad she lost. He appreciates her helpfulness, but often, it wasn't what she wanted to do, so he's glad she's doing what _she_ wants to do. 

"I guess we better start getting ready," she says, swinging her legs out of bed. 

He lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Can't we stay in bed?"

She rolls her eyes fondly. "We don't have to stay long. Just enough for a couple drinks."

He nods. College drinking is still something he's getting used to. He drank with their friends at parties during senior year, but around new people, it feels... weird. He knows, though, with her by his side, he'll be able to enjoy a little buzz. 

Betty excuses herself to the bathroom, leaving him with a kiss on the cheek. He thinks that’s his cue to start getting ready, so he drags himself out of bed and fumbles through his small collection of clothes.

He picks out his only other button-up shirt – a plain red one – and a pair of dark jeans. Eyeing his suspenders, he makes a split decision to wear them, thinking Betty will enjoy their reappearance. He quickly gets changed, attaching the suspender clips to the waistband of his jeans when Betty walks in.

"Hey- Woah," she says, the noise of closing the door sounding behind her.

He looks up to see her, a subtle but striking face of makeup on, hair thrown in a messy bun. She's still wearing his t-shirt – luckily it's long enough to be the length of a short dress on her – and he finds himself wondering if anyone saw here looking so blatantly _his_.

“You okay, Betts?” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Her thick swallow is almost audible. “Uh-huh…”

Well. That reaction is better than he expected. 

Just as he finished clipping the suspenders on, she steps towards him, standing in between his legs. Her hands immediately grip onto the hanging suspender straps and his rest on her hips.

“You like what you see?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

She replies with a kiss. She has to lean down because he’s still sitting, so she’s the one to deepen the kiss, parting his lips with her tongue.

When she pulls back, she has a triumphant smile on her face. 

“I take that as a yes, then.”

Her voice is low when she replies. “Definitely.” She trails a chest up and down his chest, her eyes fixated on his.

“Betty,” he practically groans, “if you don’t stop, we won’t be going anywhere.”

Pressing a chaste kiss against his lips, she says, “I’ll get my dress on then,” with a sneaky glint in her eye, before stepping away from him.

He breaths out a long sigh, trying to prepare himself for what’s to come.

While Betty gets changed, he tries to distract himself by combing his hair – something he does rarely. It’s unruly, covered by that beanie Betty knitted for him after he almost died and they had to burn the other one ( _wow_ , he thinks, _Riverdale really did a number on us_ ). Around Betty, though, he wears it less and less. A beanie has always been a sort of comfort blanket for him, but now having her next to him is enough. 

So tonight, his hair needs to look at least slightly presentable. 

The comb struggles, so he runs his fingers through it, trying to remove some knots, before trying the comb again. It works better this time but still gives up shortly after.

Turning around, his eyes are fixated on a now dressed-up Betty. 

She's wearing a short mint green dress that makes the color of her eyes pop. Her hair is now down, soft curls framing her face, and the necklace Jughead got her clasped around her neck. 

It’s a simple necklace. A thin silver chain with a small round charm attached to it. The charm is engraved with ‘J+B’, something that, at the time, he was concerned would be too cringey or too _much_. Luckily, she loved it then, and she loves it now.

"Wow," he says, his brain unable to form words for how amazing she looks.

She tugs self-consciously on the hem of her dress. "It's not... too much?"

"God. No. You look–" he looks her up and down, a smile spreading across his face "–beautiful. Unreal. Amazing. All of those. And more."

She leans forward to innocently press a kiss to his cheek. “Maybe you can take this off later,” she whispers in his ear.

Grabbing her wrist as she tries to walk away, he pulls her back and in for a hungry kiss. “I’ll hold you to that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for alcohol and more kissing

Jughead nurses a red cup, sipping what he hopes is beer every so often. It doesn't taste particularly nice – not his drink of choice, but it's the only thing he recognized – but it'll do. 

Betty is beside him, her arm clinging onto his. He's aware that she isn't the biggest fan of large groups of unknown people, and neither is he if he's being honest, so he's happy she hasn't wanted to mingle with anyone alone. 

They're hiding in the corner of the dining-turned-party room. It's relatively large, with a table pushed to the side and covered in a variety of cups, bottles, and snacks. The room connects to the kitchen, which has even more drinks, and the corridor to the living room, which is, and he quotes, _strictly out of bounds_. The bathroom is upstairs, and as far as he's aware, the three bedrooms have locked doors. (He doesn't blame _whoever_ lives here. Drunk college kids are a pain in the ass.)

Glancing around the room, Jughead recognizes a couple of people. Not anyone he wants to talk to, though, just a few people from his historical literature class. And obviously, they don't want to talk to him either. He's fine with that.

"Have you seen Theo yet?" Betty asks, leaning forward on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear so he can hear her over the music.

He shakes his head. "Can we leave now?" he half-jokes, making sure to overtly rake his eyes over her to get his point across.

She swats his arm but laughs anyway.

Out of the corner of his eye, a group of people enters the room. One of which, he notices, is Theo.

"There's Theo," he mumbles, downing the rest of his drink and silently hoping Betty doesn't force him to socialize. 

Of course, she does. "Oh! C'mon, let's go!" She tugs his arm, looking around at him when he doesn't move. She leans forward to press a kiss against his lips. "Come on, grumpy."

He smiles involuntarily and follows her.

Theo notices them and starts weaving through the crowds to meet them somewhere in the middle.

"Hey, Jughead, Betty," he greets with a smile. "Glad you guys made it."

"I'm not," Jughead mutters under his breath, earning him a subtle elbow in the side. And then, louder, "Yeah, it's good to be here."

Betty steps in. "How are things, Theo?" she asks, polite smile on her face.

Jughead is happy for his girlfriend to distract Theo for a while. It means he can zone out while they chat, and he knows Theo will be willing. He keeps one ear out just in case his name is mentioned, watching as various groups and couples dance around the room. 

The room is dark, as expected, with multicolored lights swirling around the floor. There must be a disco ball or something, he decides, but he can't locate it. 

Everyone seems happy. Drunk and happy. He knows, in the back of his mind, that drunk does not always mean happy. Drunk can mean violent and harsh and spiteful. He just hopes no one here gets like that.

(Drunk can mean happy, he has to remind himself. Just because it doesn't always mean happy, doesn't mean it can't.

He regrets downing his drink.)

He refocuses his eyes, ignoring that nagging thought.

Instead, he notices something happy. A couple. A couple he recognizes from one of his classes. In the middle of the room, slow-dancing to a decidedly not slow song. They look happy. They look very much happy and in love, swaying gently in each other's arms, completely unaware of their surroundings. 

He allows his focus to fall back on Betty. 

She’s talking animatedly to Theo, who seems to be listening closely and nodding in all the right places. Her arm has untangled itself from him, now being used as a prop in her story. He doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but he’s almost certain he’s heard it before. Just from the way her eyes are lit up and she’s speaking with such enthusiasm, he can tell it’s not one of those fake excitement stories. 

He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face while he watches her. 

_God_. He just loves her so much. 

He wants to dance with her like that couple in the middle of the room. He wants to show everyone that she is his and he is hers. He wants to prove to everyone that they, too, are so happy, and so, so in love. 

As if the matching marks on their necks aren’t enough.

(Jughead is sure Theo has noticed them, too.

And he couldn’t be happier.)

Her voice snaps him out of his love-and-alcohol-induced haze. (Or maybe it pulls him in even further.)

“...right, Jug?” Her hand grabs his and she looks over at him, sending him a confused smile. 

Oh yeah. The lopsided grin on his face. He forgot about that.

He shrugs ever so slightly. “Right,” he answers, hoping that’s enough. 

Luckily, it is. Betty must’ve realized he hadn’t been listening, so she continues carrying the conversation. Her hand stays in his this time, which he’s grateful for.

“I better leave you guys to it,” says Theo after a while. He pats Jughead on the back and smiles at Betty as he leaves. “Have a good night, see you later!”

Once he’s gone, Betty turns to him. “He’s nice, isn’t he?”

Jughead nods, but he knows he’s being distant. He’s stuck in his brain.

He’s stuck thinking about that couple. He can’t see them anymore but he can remember the looks on their faces. He’s… sad, he thinks. Sad that they have each other all the time. Sad that he can’t have Betty all the time.

_Fuck_. 

Why can’t he just be normal?

Before he realizes what’s happening, Betty is dragging him away from his fixed position in the dining room and towards a backdoor he hadn’t noticed before. She’s leading him outside, where the cold hits him like a tonne of bricks, and around a corner to an empty area. 

“What–” 

She stands directly in front of him, taking both of his hands in hers. “Juggie, I can tell something’s wrong.”

He sighs in defeat, wishing his stupid brain wouldn’t keep fucking up the good times. “I’m sor–”

“Jughead!”

Her voice is assertive and loud, and he giggles at it, feeling a small bubble of _whatever the fuck he’s feeling_ float away. 

“What’s wrong?”

He tells her. There is no point in trying to hide it. Maybe the tiny amount of alcohol in his system makes it even more pointless, but either way, he tells her.

About the couple. About them looking so happy. About him wanting to dance, too. ( _We can_ , she tells him, _we can dance._ He files that away for future use.) 

And then he spills everything. Everything she knows already, but the same everything that’s still on his mind. 

He cries. He cries when he tells her that he misses her beyond belief, that he doesn’t feel like he can be truly happy like that couple because she’s leaving tomorrow and he doesn’t know when he’ll see her again. He cries even more when he tells her that he’s terrified she’ll find someone else, someone better than him.

And he cries when she tells him, with more sincerity than he’s ever heard before, that she loves him, that she’ll never love anyone as much as she loves him. 

Her voice is so sincere that he can’t help but believe her. 

Once the tears stop falling, her hands move up to cup his face and she leans in. She kisses him softly, tasting faintly of alcohol, but mainly of Betty. 

“I love you, Jug,” she repeats, and he knows she’s telling him nothing but the truth. 

He knows her, he knows her better than she knows herself. He knows she isn’t lying.

It helps him throw aside a few of his insecurities.

After she’s made sure he’s feeling better at least thirteen times (which he _is)_ , they head back inside. They go into the kitchen, and Betty finds something that looks like a surprisingly expensive brand of vodka. She looks over at him, tilting her head in a silent question. He knows exactly what she’s saying.

“Yeah,” he answers with a reassuring smile, “but only a little bit.”

She nods, pouring no more than a splash into two red cups before topping them up with lemonade. 

In the other room, they watch on as someone starts a conga. It’s led by Theo, who looks as equally confused as he does amused. Jughead allows himself to laugh. Truly laugh. They stand far enough back that they won’t get dragged into it, but close enough that they can watch the situation unfold as more and more people tag onto the back. 

_This is what parties are about_ , Jughead thinks to himself as he takes a long sip of his drink.

The conga line quickly disintegrates when a slow song comes on. It’s not one Jughead recognizes, but he looks over to see Betty’s eyes light up.

_This is it_ , he thinks. _This is our time to be that couple_.

And she must think the same.

Before he knows it, he’s got Betty Cooper in his arms as they sway to the gentle sound of the song acting as their soundtrack. 

Whatever they’re doing can’t really be called dancing, he decides. Her head rests on his chest – over his heart – and her arms are wrapped around his waist. He holds her as close as possible, the side of his face resting against her head. 

The song drones on in the background. It doesn’t matter what it is to him. All that matters is Betty and the warmth of happiness he feels as they move together. 

“I love you,” he whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss to her hair.

She looks up with smiling eyes. “I love you, too,” she replies, barely audible. 

As quickly as it starts, the song is over and replaced with a faster one. Betty doesn’t pull away, though, so he continues holding her and moving out of time with the music. He notices Theo watching them from the corner, in the same way he suspects he was watching that couple from before. 

He wonders if Theo thinks they look completely happy and in love.

He hopes so.

Eventually, Betty does move away. To him, she looks happy. The slight smile that hasn’t left her face, the way her eyes are glazed over, crinkling at the edges. 

He hopes she is happy.

“Jug, I need to go to the bathroom.”

He can’t help but giggle. “Apparently it’s upstairs. C’mon.”

The bathroom, as it is, is past about a million super drunk college students. Some clustered in the small hallway by the front door, some hovering on the staircase. They squeeze past everyone and find the bathroom with little problem.

Betty is gone for just a few seconds, but it’s long enough for an uncomfortably long queue to form behind him. He doesn’t try and make conversation with anyone, and no one tries to talk to him, which he is eternally grateful for. 

Moments later, the door opens and Betty’s hand grabs his, practically dragging him past the queue of people and down the stairs. She stops along the empty corridor leading to the closed-off living room, grinning at him.

“What?” he says with a laugh.

She answers by lightly pushing him against the wall and crashing her lips against his. One hand grabs onto a suspender, with the other threading through the base of his hair. She deepens the kiss, and he can taste the remnants of vodka on her tongue again. 

It makes him groan.

“Jesus, Betty.”

“Is… this okay?”

With a sly smirk, he tugs on her hair, pulling her forward into a heated kiss. 

“I take that as a yes,” she mutters before reconnecting their lips. 

They kiss for, well, Jughead doesn’t know how long. He finds himself completely and utterly captivated by her and the feeling of her lips against his. He’s so taken in by everything that is Betty that he forgets where they are, he forgets they’re at a party of some nameless person. 

None of that matters. Just Betty. Always Betty.

He wants this forever. He knew that before. He has known he wants Betty forever for a long time. 

On some level, he thinks he’s known he wants Betty in his life forever since they met. At first, it was just as a friend. He had no interest in love in any sense. But then… things started to change. He thought, to begin with, that he and Betty would never happen. Betty was interested in Archie. Everyone knew that. Everyone knew they were destined to be together.

It didn’t happen.

Then Jason died. 

Jughead feels… immoral to be slightly pleased, for lack of a better word, for that event. He’s not, of course he’s not. But every cloud has a silver lining, right? 

For him, the silver lining of Jason Blossom’s death was the investigation. The investigation that Betty dragged him into – not that he was kicking or screaming, though. The same investigation that led to the blossoming of their romance. And led him into her bedroom via a ladder on that fateful day.

As they kiss, he remembers how nervous he was that day. He giggles slightly amid a far more confident series of kisses they are sharing. 

Betty pulls back having noticed his laugh. “What?” she asks through a smile. 

Shaking his head, he laughs again. “Remember when I first kissed you?” “Of course. How could I forget?”

“I was _so_ nervous, Betty, and now look at us.” He gestures loosely around them, realizing there is zero space between them. It proves his point, really.

She laughs this time. “Fair point.” “15-year-old me never thought this would happen,” he grins. 

Her hands clutch his suspenders. “God I love you so much,” she growls, meeting his lips once more. 

There seems to be more heat and need this time. Her tongue quickly swipes his lip, and she pushes her hips into him. 

_Fuck_ , he thinks, _maybe_ this _is what parties are about._

Betty doesn’t back down, and he doesn’t want her to. He wants to take her upstairs, even though they aren’t allowed in any of the rooms, and show her how amazing she is. But he doesn’t want to move. He just wants to keep on kiss her.

His own hands trail down her body, skimming the hem of her dress. He has to remind himself not to dip his hand under it because _boy_ is she tempting him right now. 

As she starts trailing her lips down his neck, he brings a hand up to her hair, pulling her back slightly. She looks back at him with blown eyes and swollen lips.

“ _God_ ,” he breaths, “please let me get you out of here.”

She nods but leans back into him, immediately parting her lips.

“Get a room!” someone shouts down the dark corridor, making both Betty and Jughead jump apart.

Dazed, Betty giggles and Jughead looks over to see the outline of Theo, who is heading towards them.

“Uh, sorry,” Jughead says, mildly pissed, running his fingers through his hair, while Betty stays quiet.

Theo waves them off. “I’m just messing.”

They chat awkwardly for a few minutes. Jughead finds it difficult not to tell his friend to fuck off so he can drag Betty home and give them what they both want. He thinks Betty is having the same problem, but she’s endlessly better at steering her way through situations like this.

Betty, threading her fingers with his, sends Theo her signature fake Cooper smile. “I’m so sorry, Theo, but we have to get going, right, Jug?”

“Right.” He fights back a grin of his own. “I’ll see you in class?”

Theo looks slightly taken aback. “Uh, sure.”

Before he knows it, Betty’s dragging him past Theo and towards the front door. She opens it with her spare hand, politely waving to the dark corridor before tugging Jughead outside and slamming the door behind them.

He bursts out laughing once they’re a few steps away from the house. 

“Oh my god!” she exclaims. “Jug! Your friend is gonna hate me!”

He laughs even more. “He’ll get over it,” he says once he’s calmed down.

“I just–”

“I know, Betty. Let’s go.”

The walk back to the dorms is only 15 minutes, but it’s 15 minutes too long. It's cold out, but there's an air of heat between them fueled by want and need. Their hands are clutched together, swinging between them, but neither say anything. He can't come up with anything to say, his brain too focused on getting away from the party and to a private place. He wants his hands on her and he does not want to wait.

Nor does Betty apparently. 

Walking past a quiet alleyway between two buildings – one he's walked past many times – she pulls him into it. She starts kissing him again, fingers tracing the buttons on his shirt. 

In an attempt to show her quite how much he wants her, Jughead spins them around, trapping her against the wall this time. He leans one hand on the wall above her head, the other resting on the base of her head. Leaning against her, he kisses her impatiently before trailing his lips along her jaw and to that spot on her neck he knows she just loves – one he marked yesterday.

She gasps at the sensation, gripping onto his hair. "Yes," she whines, “yes, Jug."

With all the encouragement he needs, he continues kissing and sucking at her skin, wanting nothing more than to be able to continue under the fabric of her dress. 

“Jug, Jug,” she pants, “Jughead.”

He pulls away, humming his slight disapproval. 

“Take me home.”

He stamps a final kiss to her lips. “As you wish.”

–

Having to say goodbye to Betty is never easy. Jughead doesn’t think it ever will be easy. 

He remembers back when he tried to sacrifice himself to the Ghoulies (yeah, that was _not_ the way to do things, he realizes that now) and he rang Betty to say that final goodbye. He was prepared to die, but he was not prepared to leave Betty.

Looking back, he thinks he was being slightly overdramatic. And stupid. But it did bring it home to him just quite how much he loves her and needs her. How much he never wants to leave her. 

Unfortunately, he had to learn the hard way.

Now, though, he’s aware of his attachment to his girlfriend. But being aware of it doesn’t make it easier.

On Sunday afternoon, he walks her to her car in the university’s parking lot, slowing his pace to try and prolong their time together. He holds her overnight bag (“I can do it myself,” she argued with a smile, but he’d insisted) in one hand and her hand in the other. The borderline-overwhelming sadness is difficult to ignore, but deep breaths and reassuring squeezes of his hand help. 

They reach her car in a matter of minutes. He couldn’t prolong it enough. (Another disappointment, it feels like.) He throws her bag into the back before leaning against the side of the car, staring at her with watery eyes. 

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” she whispers, wrapping her arms around him. 

He rests his head atop hers. “Yeah.” And a pause. “...When’s soon?”

“Halloween?” she offers, voice muffled by his jacket.

“Halloween, yeah.”

She tightens her grip around his waist, burying her face further into his chest, while he brings a hand up to rest on the back of her head to hold her closer to him.

Sighing sadly, his other hand rubs her back. “I love you so much, Betty.”

She leans her head back so she can look him in the eye. “I love you, too, Juggie.” 

Her eyes are watering, as are his, and all he wants to do is hold her and never let go. He’s not sure how he can watch her drive away again. He doesn’t want to do it. This was the sacrifice he had to make when choosing Stonewall Prep over Riverdale High. He did it to himself. Colleges hours away from one another, instead of together.

“Jug?”

He hums sadly in response, avoiding her eyes.

“Hey.” Her hand moves to cup his face in an attempt to get him to look at her. (It works.) “I love you, okay? 

He nods. 

She leans in to connect their lips in a soft and meaningful kiss. He puts everything into it, trying to convey the words he can’t seem to say.

_I don’t want you to go_ , he tries to say. _I’m probably being dramatic but my life has no meaning without you. I just love you so much._

When they part, they both have tears rolling down their face. He feels stupid, in a way, for being so fucking co-dependent. It’s just, after everything they’ve been through, how can he not be?

She steps away from him, hand hovering on the car door handle. “See you soon,” she says through a watery smile.

“See you soon.” He moves away from the car, sending her a weak smile in response.

As she waves at him from the car, he feels his heart shattering the further she gets away from him.

( _Pathetic_ , he thinks.)

–

Jughead mopes his way through the rest of Sunday and Monday. He's in a haze of missing Betty, being a co-dependent idiot, and wishing he could be in Connecticut. He gets almost no assignments done, which is only harming himself in a few days who'll have to catch up on everything. But he can't really help it.

Of course, he misses Betty dreadfully. But... he hates his birthday, too. It's the combination of the two, he thinks, that's making these days difficult.

Betty rings him on Monday evening. It's nice to hear her voice, and it's nice to talk to her, even though they've been texting semi-regularly since she arrived back in Connecticut. She apologizes for not being able to be there with him again and he reminds her of the future in which they'll always be together. 

(Roles reversed, he thinks, looking back on their weekend together.)

Shortly after they hang up, he receives a phone of her wearing one of his t-shirts she snuck out. He laughs at her adorableness and falls asleep with a smile on his face, thoughts of his birthday pushed away.

That smile does not stay once he arrives wakes up. Alone. On his birthday.

It’s early – he has a 9 am lecture – and he’s exhausted. He wants nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep, only to wake up with his beautiful girlfriend in his arms. 

Life doesn’t work like that, though.

So up he gets, forgoing a shower for a short (but sweet) phone call from Betty.

“Happy birthday,” she says as she answers the phone. “And before you say anything, _yes_ , I know you hate people saying that but I’d feel like a bad girlfriend if I didn’t.” 

He knows her. He could’ve predicted that. It’s something she’s said every year to him for the past 3 years. (Not that he’ll ever admit it, but he secretly loves it.)

“Thanks, Betts,” he laughs. And then, sadder, “I miss you.”

He’d told her that last night. She’d said the same thing. He doesn’t _need_ to say it again. It’s not like by saying it, it’s changing anything. In fact, it’s probably making it worse for them both. Doesn’t stop him, though. 

They don’t chat for long. Neither has much time this early on in the morning, but Betty promises to phone him again later for a _much more in-depth_ conversation. He makes a suggestive humming noise at that, to which she responds with “If you’re lucky,” in a low voice. (He hopes he’s lucky.)

After reminding each other (multiple times) how much they love one another, they hang up, leaving Jughead feeling a strange mix of lighter and heavier. On one hand, speaking to Betty always makes him feel better, but on the other, he misses her like crazy. She did succeed at getting him excited for their next conversation, though, so he tries to focus on that instead of what’s missing.

His first lecture – American literature history – is surprisingly fun. No one in that class knows it’s his birthday, so it passes with little intrusion. After a study period he spends in the library working on his novel, leading to accidentally writing through lunch (while snacking, of course – he didn’t completely forget to eat), he heads to his intro to lit class. The same class Theo is in, who happens to know when Jughead’s birthday is. 

He groans at the thought, hoping his friend knew better than to make a fuss. 

Walking through the doors to the lecture hall, he’s pleased to see an alone Theo, busy sketching. So he walks over, pretending it’s just a normal Tuesday.

“Hey, Theo,” he greets in his usual doom-and-gloom manner. “What you drawing?” 

Theo looks up as he sits in the seat next to him, and slides the drawing over. “Happy birthday, man.” Jughead takes the drawing. It’s a short comic strip about someone hating their birthday. It’s funny and surprisingly thoughtful. Not something he really expected from someone he’s only known for a couple of months but appreciated nevertheless. “Thanks,” he smiles, hoping it sends across his appreciation. “This is great.”

Shrugging, Theo fiddles with his pencil before looking back at Jughead. “Hey, uh, I know it’s not really your thing, but you’re alone tonight, right?” He nods. “We could… grab dinner? At that diner you like?”

Jughead blinks in surprise. It’s not _entirely_ out of character for him to ask to meet up outside of class – the party, for example – but he didn’t exactly expect him to ask that today. 

_Huh. Weird._

Thinking for a moment, he remembers Betty’s _call_. He’d rather do that if he’s being honest. But dinner would be nice. Save him from eating more shitty ramen. He could do both, he decides.

“Sure,” he replies after a moment.

Theo lets out what sounds like a sigh of relief. “Great! I’ll, uh, meet you there at, say, 7?”

Jughead nods just as the lecturer walks in, so the conversation comes to an abrupt end. 

After an uneventful class, Jughead is surprised when Theo practically runs off with just a rushed _see you later!_ Instead of dwelling on it, though, he heads back to the library, managing to finish the latest chapter of his novel. 

On days like these, he finds it easier to write his novel than do his assignments. There’s something comforting about the words he writes in the novel he’s been working on since he was 16. Maybe it’s because it’s set in his hometown, the same town he promised himself he wouldn’t miss. (That promise was broken within 10 minutes of leaving.)

Assignments just seem like too much effort. He gets a free pass today, using the _but it’s my birthday_ argument on no one but himself. 

Either way, he’s pleased with the progress he’s making on his novel, even if it is at the expense of an essay or two. He’ll pull it back with an all-nighter later in the week, no doubt. 

Once he’s had enough of the brown walls that make up the library, he heads back to his dorm, sending Betty a quick text as he goes. Not about anything in particular; he just wants to walk to her. 

(She doesn’t reply as fast as she usually would, but he tries not to think too hard about that, about what else she might be doing.)

He wastes time alone back in his dorm, thinking about Betty, thinking about his birthday. His father rings him at one point, so he spends a little while _not_ thinking about Betty while he talks to FP and JB. It’s a welcome distraction, but of course, it doesn’t last long enough.

Soon enough, 7 pm is approaching. 

He thinks about canceling Theo, but he has yet to receive a reply from Betty, so canceling would be pointless. He might as well at least try to have a nice time with a friend while simultaneously worrying his girlfriend is ignoring him. Or busy with something (or _someone)_ else. On his birthday.

_Fuck_ , he thinks. _This isn’t going to be easy._

At least there will be food. 

Dragging himself out of his dorm, he makes his way to the diner. He momentarily wonders why Theo didn’t suggest meeting at college to walk there together, deciding not to question it as he throws his headphones on with some classical music to occupy his mind. 

He reaches the blue neon lights of the diner a few minutes before 7. Looking through the window, he can’t see Theo, but he enters anyway, thinking he might as well order a milkshake while he waits.

He picks the same booth he always sits in, the same booth he and Betty sat in just a few days previously. (The thought makes him want to cry.)

Sipping his chocolate milkshake, his back is to the door, so he doesn’t notice someone walking towards him. 

“Hey, Jug,” a voice says.

He snaps his head around at the familiar voice. His eyes are met with none other than Betty Cooper. 

“Betty?” he says in disbelief, feeling himself stand up and move towards her. 

“Happy birthday,” she whispers before pulling him in for a kiss.

They sit down together, both grinning like idiots.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. When she doesn’t reply, he thinks for a moment. Oh. _Oh._ “Theo?”

She nods. “I couldn’t miss your birthday, Jug.”

When he leans in to kiss her once more, he finds himself thinking _maybe birthdays aren’t so bad after all._

_~fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading this accidentally-long fic! i hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> leave me your love in the form of comments and kudos if you so desire.
> 
> see you on [tumblr](https://fallout-mars.tumblr.com/) or here soon. stay safe!

**Author's Note:**

> so... there's that then. i hope this is up to your bughead standards. for a self-indulgent piece, it turned out alright i think. stay tuned for part two in the next few days!
> 
> thank you for reading. please leave me some love in the form of kudos and comments so i can thrive on ao3 emails.
> 
> join me on [tumblr](https://fallout-mars.tumblr.com/) if you'd like. 
> 
> see you next time!


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